Putting his phone back in his pocket, Alex let out a heavy sigh and took a deep drag from his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke upward, he felt the eyes of Emmet, Saga, Casey, and Kiran on him — all waiting for an answer, whether reinforcements were coming or not.

Alex knew exactly what they were expecting, but he couldn’t just say outright that the ones coming to help were fanatics known as the Black Templars. Those people were… particular — loyal, but excessively zealous. After being “enlightened” by GIR, MIMI, and Stitch, they had become true followers of the Emperor, ready to march into hell itself if the order was given as a blessing. Alex knew what to expect: it would be loud, chaotic — and very effective.

Emmet, watching Alex’s expression, immediately guessed that he had reached out to his guild. He knew those people and could describe them with one word — eccentric.

Saga, after two days spent around Alex, had already learned to read him by his face. Right now, his expression said it all — resignation. She understood: reinforcements were indeed coming, but something about them was definitely “off.”

Kiran, unwilling to speculate any further, decided to cut to the point.”So, Agent Voldigoad. Will there be reinforcements from your organization? Or are you, like us, left without support?” she asked coldly.

“On the contrary,” Alex replied calmly, releasing a thin stream of smoke. “Reinforcements are on their way. It’s just… how should I put it…” He scratched his chin, looking for the right words.

“Your organization couldn’t spare many people?” Casey asked, frowning.

“Oh no, plenty of people. A squad of thirty is already en route. It’s just that these guys… well, they’re a bit… unique. The kind who live by the principle ‘Do or die,'” Alex said, smirking unbotheredly.

“In our current situation, that’s exactly the kind we need,” Kiran remarked, nodding. “And thirty fighters — that’s excellent news.”

“They’ll be here in an hour,” Alex nodded. “And you’ll understand everything once they arrive. For now, Kiran, give me the keys to the holding cells where you’re keeping the Koskela brothers and Wake. I need to talk to them.”

Kiran narrowed her eyes.”You do realize the Koskela brothers are the leaders of the Tree cult?” she said, pulling the keys from her pocket.

Alex sighed, took the keys, and replied evenly,”For heaven’s sake, Kiran. Those men have been protecting Bright Falls from the Taken for over thirteen years. You’re starting to sound like someone who’s fallen under the influence of Wake’s story. Try to stay focused before you become part of it yourself.”

Kiran froze. His words hit dead center. She herself had noticed inconsistencies in her memories — subtle, but unsettling. The realization came swiftly: the story really was starting to influence her. A chill ran down her spine.

She stood up, leaning on her injured leg, and went to check on her people — to see if their memories had started changing too. Alex, Emmet, Saga, and Casey exchanged glances. Alex just shook his head, taking another deep drag from his cigarette.

“Honestly, I expected more from the FBC,” he muttered. “Fighting anomalies, you say…”

He pushed off the table and headed toward the exit. On his way, he grabbed a chair and dragged it behind him — it screeched across the floor, a grating sound that perfectly matched Alex’s irritation.

“Why do you need a chair?” Emmet asked, watching him.

“Just in case,” Alex replied casually. “And you three slackers, look around the sheriff’s office. Maybe you’ll find something useful.”

With that, he disappeared slowly down the corridor, leaving behind a sharp smell of cigarette smoke — and the uneasy sense that something truly big was coming.

Emmet flinched at Alex’s words, feeling a sting of resentment — after all, unlike Alex, it was Emmet who had nearly gotten his nose broken, and two of his ribs had been cracked. They’d already healed thanks to his regeneration, but the memory of the pain was still fresh. He’d also been knocked out more than once, which didn’t help his mood. He wanted to protest but held himself back — he knew all too well how that could end. Judging by the way Alex was dragging that chair, that piece of furniture could very well become a weapon at the first careless remark.

Saga understood why Alex had insisted on taking this task himself. It was because of what — or rather, who — was inside Alan Wake. Scratch.

And after what they’d seen at the “Elderwood Palace” motel — that mountain of corpses — forgetting what he was capable of was impossible.

Casey didn’t argue either. Without a word, he followed Saga into the sheriff’s office.

Alex pulled out a keycard and pressed it to the electronic lock. The lock beeped softly, and the door clicked open. Inside, everything looked calm — deceptively ordinary. Dim lights, concrete walls, security cameras.

In the neighboring cells, Alex immediately spotted Ilmo and Jaakko. And in the farthest one, deep in the room, sat Alan Wake — or rather, what was left of him.

The moment Ilmo saw Alex, he lunged at the bars, baring his teeth like a beast trapped in a cage.

“You! You’re from that damned Bureau!” he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. “Government bastards! You ruined everything! Let us out, you freaks! We didn’t do anything! We were only trying to protect the town the best we could!”

Alex exhaled wearily, set the chair down, and leaned back against it.

“Ilmo, I told you to stay out of this. And what did you do? How many of your people died because of your stubbornness?… Whatever, that’s not important right now.”

“Wake’s going to ruin everything!” Jaakko roared, slamming his fist against the bars. “He has to be stopped before it gets worse! How many more people have to die because of you bureaucratic bastards?!”

“Not a single one,” Alex replied calmly. “Now, both of you — out. I’m letting you go. But if you try to run or pull anything stupid—” he gave a short glance at the chair, “—I’ll turn you into a piece of modern art.”

He unlocked Ilmo’s cell.

“You people come into our town acting like you know everything!” Ilmo barked as he stepped out. “But you don’t know a damn thing!”

Alex slowly turned his head and spoke lazily:”Shut up, Ilmo. Or I’ll test how thick your skull really is.” His voice was flat — not a hint of sarcasm. “Now you, Jaakko. I’ll say this once — both of you shut up and go to the sheriff’s office. Sit there quietly and don’t breathe louder than the wind. Am I clear?”

He gripped one of the iron bars. Metal groaned under his hand, bending slightly.

Ilmo and Jaakko froze, their faces paling. Even after years of fighting the Taken, they understood one thing — this was not a man to argue with.

“Good boys,” Alex said with a faint smile. The warmth in it looked so out of place that the brothers nearly flinched.

He opened the second cell, letting Jaakko out. The man stepped back cautiously, never turning his back to Alex. Only when both were out did Alex nod in satisfaction and drag the chair toward the last cell.

Inside, in the half-light, sat Alan Wake — eyes sharp, gaze wary, almost analytical.

Alex sat down, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Thick smoke curled through the dim air.

Alan’s eyes didn’t leave him. They lingered briefly on the bloodstains on Alex’s coat — even his pants weren’t clean.

“Alex… is he inside you?” Wake finally asked hoarsely, breaking the silence.

Alex exhaled slowly, eyes locked on him.

“Let’s just talk first, Alan. Tell me — why write that kind of story? You could’ve ended it differently, sealed the darkness for good. Why make both endings so grim? Do you enjoy playing with people’s lives, turning them into your characters? Or maybe you just like torturing them — because to you, they’re not real, right?”

He spoke evenly, without anger, yet every word landed like a weight.

“It’s not as simple as you think,” Alan said, gripping the bars. “A story needs material. You can’t create something from nothing. Even in the Dark Place, where imagination shapes reality, there are still rules.”

Alex narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Looks like you’ve forgotten quite a bit, Alan. Fine then… answer me this — why did you weave Saga’s daughter, Logan, into the story? Although, I think I already know the answer. I just want to hear your version.”

Alan lowered his gaze.

“I had dreams… they told me of the present and the future. I used them in the book. But then…” he fell silent, fingers tightening around the bars. “Then I realized that careful planning meant nothing. Every word I wrote carried danger. I… stopped writing. And that’s when he started writing instead. He rewrote everything, twisting my story.”

Alex chuckled quietly, flicked the ash off his cigarette, and said slowly:

“Hahaha… there you go, Scratch.” His eyes gleamed coldly. “I was wondering how long you’d keep pretending to be Alan Wake. Maybe you fooled the others — but I can see your real face. The one covered in darkness, blood, and rage.”

He took one last drag and exhaled — the smoke thick and heavy, as dark as the shadows inside the cell.

And immediately after that, Alan clutched his head, staggered, and stepped back. The lights around the room began to flicker, as if the space itself were resisting what was happening. Distorted voices filled the air — muffled, ragged, like they were being broadcast through an old, broken radio.

With every passing second the chaos intensified, and finally the lights went out.

When the lamps flared again, Alan Wake no longer stood before Alex. The body now belonged to Scratch.

A thick black mist swirled around Scratch, as if Darkness itself welcomed the return of its master. His face twisted into a mad grin, full of rage and malicious triumph.

Alex, however, remained utterly calm — he sat on the chair, leisurely took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke through his nose. Then he stood, flicked the ash off, and tossed the butt aside.

A tense silence settled between them. They stared at each other without blinking.

“This is my story!” Scratch growled in a distorted, doubled voice, as if several copies of him were speaking at once.

“I’d agree with you, Scratch…” Alex replied calmly, stepping forward. “But it seems you’ve forgotten how our last meeting ended. Allow me to remind you.”

He grabbed Scratch by the collar through the cell bars and yanked him with all his strength.

Scratch’s face slammed against the cold metal with a ringing impact. The blow was so strong the bars buckled.

Voices from beyond the door sounded alarmed, but Kiran acted fast — she locked the doors and wouldn’t let anyone in. She didn’t know exactly what Alex was capable of, but the fact that he had single-handedly cleared the compound of the Taken spoke for itself.

Alex methodically continued smashing Scratch’s face into the bars until dents began to appear in the metal. Each hit reverberated through the room.

Finally Scratch, hissing with fury, dissolved into coils of black smoke and slipped from Alex’s grip. In that instant a powerful surge of fog burst from his body and with a crash blew the iron cell doors open.

Alex managed to become intangible at the last moment — the bars passed through him without harm.

“What’s wrong, Scratch?” he smirked, watching him materialize a few meters away. “Couldn’t script yourself better skills? Your Darkness tricks only work on simple folk.”

In response Scratch snarled and tore a piece of the iron grille free, crushing the metal as if it were foil.

Alex raised an eyebrow, pulled a folding baton from his inner pocket and, flicking his wrist, snapped it open.

“All right, let’s keep it fair,” he said with a grin. “Want a weapon fight? You’ll get one.”

Scratch bared his teeth maliciously and vanished from the spot — only a whirlwind of black smoke remained. In the next moment he reappeared right in front of Alex, swinging a metal pipe.

The metal met the baton with a clang — sparks flew into the air. Alex parried the blow and counterattacked instantly, lunging forward. His baton struck Scratch in the face with a dry crack of bone.

Scratch recoiled but did not fall — he only laughed in a staccato, inhuman way and dissolved back into smoke.

He reappeared behind Alex and struck hard with the iron pipe. Alex raised his arm to block the blow without turning, then spun and kicked the assailant in the chest. The hit sent Scratch hurtling toward the emergency exit doors.

He slammed his back into the metal, but as he barely tried to rise he took another blow — this time a direct kick to the chest.

The emergency exit doors were ripped off their hinges with a crash, and Scratch flew out into the rear yard of the compound, slamming into the crates the FBC agents had left there.

Alex followed, calmly gripping his metal baton.

“Agent Voldigoad, do you copy?” Kiran’s voice crackled over the speakers.

“Yes! What is it?!” Alex answered without taking his eyes off Scratch.

“I have two pieces of news,” Kiran said. “Bad: the containment block for Scratch is not ready yet. Good: I can turn on bright light. There’s equipment in the backyard — FBC floodlights. We brought them specifically to fight these creatures. Hold him off a little, and I’ll start the generators.”

The line went dead.

Alex gave a crooked smile and took a step forward, spinning the baton in his hand.

“All right then, Scratch,” he said, “shall we play another round?”

Hearing Kiran Estevez’s words, Alex just shrugged. He didn’t need any help — he could handle this perfectly well on his own. But if Kiran wanted to earn herself a few extra points for good deeds, who was he to stop a woman from showing initiative?

Scratch, meanwhile, wasn’t wasting a second. The Darkness around him thickened to the point that the very air began to distort. Alex clicked his tongue in irritation, noting that he always seemed to end up fighting opponents who stubbornly refused to die.

He tightened his grip on the metal folding baton and lunged forward. In a blink, he was in front of Scratch, raising his weapon overhead before bringing it down in a crushing arc. Scratch managed to block, but the ground beneath him cracked from the force of the impact.

Alex twisted the baton sharply, hooking it around Scratch’s arm, and wrenched it hard. The iron pipe slipped from Scratch’s hand as he dropped to his knees. Alex swung his leg over the man’s neck, caught his arm again, and yanked it back with brutal strength. A sickening crunch followed — bone snapping through flesh.

Gritting his teeth, Scratch grabbed the fallen pipe with his other hand and swung. Alex released the hold and leapt back. A second later, Scratch was already on his feet, black mist swirling around his arm — the fracture healing instantly.

“I hate it when you guys do that…” Alex muttered irritably, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and clenching it between his teeth. “Why do you all have to start regenerating?”

“Give me the Clicker, Agent Voldigoad!” Scratch snarled, crushing the pipe in his now-healed hand.

“Hey, that’s my Clicker. Don’t ask for the impossible,” Alex said with a smirk, cigarette still between his lips.

Scratch lunged at him again, this time faster and stronger. Alex dodged effortlessly, barely touching the ground, avoiding each strike at the last possible moment. Activating his magical sight, he immediately saw what was happening.

No surprise — the story was continuing to come alive. And since Scratch was the main villain of Return, his strength grew with every passing second. According to the author’s intent, he was meant to bring Darkness into the world — and as long as the narrative kept manifesting, Scratch would only become stronger.

Alex folded the baton and slipped it back into his pocket. He knew that as soon as Kiran activated the floodlights, Scratch would be thrown back toward Cauldron Lake. He wasn’t trying to defeat him — only to stall, to buy time.

Kiran’s voice came from the outdoor speakers.”Agent Voldigoad, lure Scratch to the center of the back yard. We’ve started the generators. Once he’s in position, I’ll turn on the lights.”

Alex nodded and, dodging another strike, drove his boot into Scratch’s stomach. The creature barely staggered, leaving deep dents in the concrete. Alex clicked his tongue again, stepped forward, grabbed Scratch by the collar, and headbutted him square in the nose. The crunch was audible.

Scratch stumbled back a step, but Alex didn’t let up — he unleashed a flurry of punches to the face, forcing his opponent to retreat. Finally, when Scratch was standing exactly in the middle of the yard, Kiran powered the system on.

Brilliant floodlights flared to life, flooding the space with blinding radiance. Scratch dropped to his knees, writhing in pain. His skin smoked under the beams, his face twisted in rage.

“Return…” he rasped, barely clinging to consciousness.

“You’ve said that already,” Alex replied calmly, flicking his lighter and lighting a cigarette.

Right after those words, Scratch let out a deafening, almost bestial scream — and in the next moment, his body dissolved into thick black mist. Instantly, every light in the yard burst into blinding brilliance and then went out, throwing sparks and clouds of smoke into the air.

Alex silently stared at the spot where Scratch had just been standing. On the concrete remained a murky, dark puddle, thin steam rising from it. He brought a cigarette to his lips, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled.

After standing there for a few more seconds, he flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and, without hurrying, headed toward the sheriff’s station. Passing through the broken emergency exit doors, Alex returned to the office.

The moment he walked in, every gaze turned to him. Faces showed a mix of shock and bewilderment. Only Emmet and Saga remained calm—they already knew what Alex was capable of. Kiran, however, looked at him with newfound understanding—her eyes reflected the realization that she was looking at a man who had just faced the embodiment of Darkness and survived.

The Koskela brothers exchanged glances—they were now certain that this man could save Bright Falls.

“What’s with those faces?” Alex said with a faint smirk, leaning his back against the wall. “Ah, right… I get it. It’s not over yet. Well, nothing we can do about that.”

“Where did Scratch go?” Saga asked, frowning.

“To the place where he’s strongest,” Alex replied, yawning lazily.

“So,” Casey spoke up, having recovered from his injury, “what’s the plan? What do we do next?”

“First, we wait for reinforcements. Then the real fun begins,” Alex said, rubbing his chin. “We have to finish before dawn. By sunrise, the story will have fully become reality. And I don’t think I need to explain what that means. But to open all the doors at once, the Clicker alone won’t be enough. We’ll also need…”

“…a work of art,” Saga finished for him.

“You’re not seriously planning to hold a concert by the lake to open all the doors at once, are you?” Emmet asked skeptically, crossing his arms. “That sounds even crazier than the idea of a book turning real.”

“All complaints go to Wake and the Dark Presence,” Alex shrugged. “They came up with the rules.”

He turned to Kiran.”By the way, all the spotlights burned out. Can someone from your team fix them and get them to the lake?”

“Smith, Fernandez—handle it. I want everything working within an hour,” Kiran ordered.

“Yes, ma’am!” both agents replied and immediately headed for the generators.

“Saga,” Alex said, glancing at her, “call the old guys. Tell them they’ve got one last chance to relive their glory days with a final concert.”

“You sure about this?” she asked doubtfully.

“More than sure,” Alex nodded. “Emmet, with me. Let’s go meet the reinforcements. Everyone else—gear up and arm yourselves. I’m not planning to do all the work alone.”

Ilmo and Jaakko agreed eagerly—this was their town, and they were ready to defend it to the end. If tonight finally ended the nightmare that had lasted thirteen years, they would greet the dawn with weapons in hand. Casey, Kiran, and the remaining FBC agent also joined in, heading to the armory.

Alex motioned for Emmet to follow, and together they stepped outside.

A heavy silence hung over the area in front of the sheriff’s station. No wind, no insects, not even stars in the sky. Only darkness and stillness. From the windows of nearby houses, people—residents now trapped within the story—watched their every move.

They stood in silence beneath the starless sky — or rather, beneath the absence of light itself — gazing into the endless black.

“How’s that for an adventure, Emmet?” Alex finally asked, leaning against the wall. “Any regrets about coming with me?”

“On the contrary,” Emmet grinned. “This is probably the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be pretending to be human. But now… now I can eat real food again, for the first time in centuries. Even got to fight the Taken. When Rosalie and I have kids someday, I’ll have quite a story to tell them.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“So, Rosie’s already mentioned it?”

“Didn’t take a genius to figure it out,” Emmet chuckled. “She’s dropped a few hints that I should ‘put in a bit more effort.’ I didn’t get it at first, but then it clicked.”

“And what do you want — a boy or a girl?” Alex asked with a faint smile.

“Ha, that’s a tough one,” Emmet said thoughtfully. “Rosalie wants a girl. Me? I don’t really care either way. As long as it’s our child. Though I’m pretty sure if it’s a girl, she’ll be just as beautiful as Rosie.”

Alex smirked and nodded.

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. But I’m curious — how exactly would your kid grow up? Technically speaking, they’d be born a full vampire, right?”

“Thought you knew,” Emmet shrugged. “I sure don’t. Our kind of vampires can’t have children… well, not until you got involved. I’ve heard of another breed that can, but they live like rats, hiding from Hunters.”

“Actually,” Alex said, tapping his chin in thought, “in many worlds there are vampire races capable of having offspring. Usually, those children stop aging once they reach maturity — and then age very, very slowly. They can live for thousands of years.”

Emmet just shrugged again. All that multiverse and race nonsense felt distant and unreal to him. Everything he knew about it came from Alex’s stories — and that was the extent of his knowledge.

Those watching the broadcast, however, were far more intrigued — especially Rosalie, Jane, and Jasper. They started wondering what their own children might be like if such a thing were possible. Even Bella wasn’t indifferent to the idea. As a lovestruck teenager, she’d often dreamed of having kids with Edward, imagining what they might look like.

Alice, on the other hand, wasn’t worried at all. She already knew what her children with Alex would be like. In the family chat, the girls were already discussing how a child was “born by magic” — once conception happened, magic took care of the rest. The child would be born inheriting traits from both parents.

Still, Alice couldn’t resist asking in the chat whether their future child would be a vampire, a demon… or a vampire-demon hybrid. That question instantly set off a storm of debate. The girls argued late into the night, but no one reached a clear answer.

Meanwhile, Alex and Emmet were still standing in front of the sheriff’s office, waiting for the Cosa Nostra group to arrive. They kept talking about children, though Alex only chuckled when Emmet asked him for parenting advice — he had none to give.

He explained that Jinx and Nyaruko had appeared in the world already as seven-year-old girls. Hearing that, Emmet grimaced and called Alex a lucky bastard — he’d skipped the sleepless nights, diapers, and tantrums.

“You’re a vampire, remember?” Alex countered with a smirk. “You don’t even sleep. You’d have handled it just fine.”

Emmet had no comeback for that — and then Alex pulled out his phone, showing him the latest messages from the family chat. Chaos had erupted again — courtesy of his four daughters in Orario.

Emmet shook his head as he scrolled through the messages.

“How hasn’t that world burned down yet from the things your four daughters do?” he muttered, clearly impressed by the scale of the madness.

Alex just smirked. He knew perfectly well that sooner or later, he’d have more little princesses — who, under the influence of their older sisters, would quickly turn into the same little gremlins. It was inevitable.

Just then, the distant roar of engines echoed through the quiet night. Both men fell silent and turned toward the sound. A few minutes later, a convoy of military Humvees stopped in front of the sheriff’s office.

Alex sighed heavily when he noticed the emblem painted on their armor — a black Maltese cross, the mark of the Black Templars.

Men in heavy combat armor began stepping out of the vehicles. Alex let out another long sigh as soon as he recognized the design — he was the one who had created it long ago, inspired by the pilots from Titanfall. Only now, it had changed: the bright steel was replaced with deep black, and the symbol of the Templars gleamed crimson on their chests and pauldrons.

Once all thirty soldiers had formed ranks, one of them stepped forward and removed his helmet. Alex recognized him instantly — Verrocchio. But this wasn’t the same man he’d once known. His eyes were cold, his face calm and stone-like, devoid of emotion.

Verrocchio knelt down on one knee, holding his helmet in his hands. The rest followed his lead, lowering themselves in unison.

Emmet involuntarily shuddered. Even though their faces were hidden behind helmets, he could feel the sheer fanaticism radiating from them.

“We have arrived at your command, my lord,” Verrocchio said, bowing his head. “We stand ready to punish whoever you point your hand toward.”

“Glad to see you,” Alex replied evenly. “Have you been briefed on the situation?”

“Lady Brunhilde explained everything during the briefing,” Verrocchio answered without rising. “Our task is to contain those possessed by the Darkness while you complete your work, my lord.”

“Excellent. Did you bring what I asked for?” Alex asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Verrocchio nodded. “Lady Kiriko has provided us with everything you requested. Your equipment is in the vehicle.”

Verrocchio cast a quick glance toward one of his men and gave a subtle nod. The soldier immediately rose and walked over to one of the Humvees. Moments later, he returned carrying a wooden crate adorned with engraved runes along the sides. Approaching Alex, the man dropped to one knee and offered the box forward.

Emmet, standing beside Alex, watched the scene unfold with a blank expression, not fully grasping what was happening. His eyes were drawn to the crate itself — heavy, covered in ancient symbols. Alex lifted the lid and found a neat row of silver stakes inside.

He recognized them instantly — the very same ones he had forged long ago while preparing to confront the avatar of Nyan-Nyan. Back then, he’d believed he would face Nyarlathotep himself, but things had turned out to be far more complicated. Life had changed drastically since then.

Closing the box, Alex ran his fingers thoughtfully across the lid. Though these stakes had been mere prototypes, they were now perfectly suited for what was to come.

At that moment, Saga stepped out of the sheriff’s office. She had meant to call for Alex, but froze when she saw the strange scene before her — thirty armored men kneeling before him like knights before their king.

“Alex… what the hell is going on here?” she asked, staring at him in bewilderment.

“Oh, that?” Alex replied calmly, tucking the crate under his arm. “Don’t worry about it. This is our backup. They know what they’re doing — that’s all that matters.”

“We will not fail you, my lord,” Verrocchio declared, still on one knee.

“Glad to hear it, Verrocchio. Rise. It’s time to finish the final preparations,” Alex said with a faint nod and a small smile.

At his command, the soldiers rose in perfect unison. Saga watched the display in stunned silence, unsure what to think. Alex simply waved his hand and walked past her without another word, with Emmet following close behind. Verrocchio and his men trailed after him, completely ignoring Saga.

When the last of them disappeared through the doorway, Saga sighed and pressed a palm to her forehead.

“My life just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” she muttered, before heading after them.

Everyone gathered in the main hall of the sheriff’s station. The arrival of Verrocchio and his men seemed to thicken the air itself — a heavy aura of discipline and power radiated from them.

“Now that everyone’s here, it’s time to put the plan into action,” said Alex, setting the wooden box on the table. “Saga, those two old men — Odin and Thor — are they ready?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “They’ve already headed to Cauldron Lake. I think they’re a lot more inspired than the last time we visited them at the retirement home.”

“Not surprising,” Alex smirked. “Alright, let’s get to business. Inside this box is the key to our operation.”

“And what’s so special about it?” Kiran asked, frowning.

“My own invention. You didn’t think your FBC was the only one capable of isolating anomalies, did you?” Alex grinned. “Inside are special stakes. They need to be placed around the entire lake. That will create an isolation field — none of the Taken will be able to escape.”

“And after that?” Casey asked, adjusting his vest.

“Then comes the concert,” said Alex. “We open every door to the Dark Place at once. I dive to the bottom, grab Alan Wake, and pull him back. Simple, right?”

“You forgot to mention that while you play the hero, we’ll be the ones fighting off the monsters crawling out of the lake,” Casey said grimly.

“Well, you’ll have light, weapons, and my men. You’ll manage,” Alex replied, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “Though there’s one detail — once the isolation field activates, everything around the lake will be pulled into the Fold.”

“Including us,” Saga finished for him.

“Exactly. So, if anyone hasn’t written a will yet — now’s the time. This night’s going to be the darkest of your lives,” Alex said calmly, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke.

“Any more instructions?” Kiran asked coldly.

“Yeah,” Alex raised a finger. “Don’t screw up. Just buy me time.”

He closed the box and tucked it under his arm.

“Then we’re heading out?” Emmet asked, crossing his arms and raising a brow.

Alex smiled faintly.”Heading out.”

He and Emmet exchanged a quick laugh and a nod. Kiran rolled her eyes, gesturing to her people to move — they had to deliver the floodlights to the lake.

Alex turned to Verrocchio and quickly explained how to position the stakes to isolate the area. Verrocchio listened carefully, nodded, then took the wooden box and led his soldiers to carry out the order.

Alex, Emmet, Saga, and Casey headed for the Impala. The engine roared to life, and soon they were speeding down the road toward Cauldron Lake.

Saga sat in the back seat, staring out the window, lost in thought about what was to come. Her chest tightened — she wanted to hear the voices of her loved ones one more time before it all began.

“Alex, give me your phone,” she said quietly. “I… want to talk to my husband and daughter. If I call from mine, I probably won’t reach them — he’s part of the story now.”

Alex silently handed her the phone and focused back on the road.

In the rearview mirror, he caught Casey’s reflection.

“What’s wrong, Casey? Getting scared?” he smirked.

“No,” Casey replied with a strained smile. “Just trying to figure out where exactly I took the wrong turn in life.”

“Who knows,” Emmet cut in, grinning. “At least you’re here now. And hey, you’ve gone further than your book counterpart ever did. In the novels, Alex Casey just solved cases — you’re an FBI agent fighting the literal Darkness. Not everyone gets that kind of upgrade. Though, granted, a lot more crap comes with it.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of that?” Casey snorted. “Still mad I didn’t sign your wife’s book?”

“Bingo,” Emmet chuckled. “Rosalie said if I didn’t get your autograph, I’d be sleeping on the couch for a month. So now I’m just making up for the emotional damage by teasing you.”

“Screw you, Cullen,” Casey muttered, punching the back of his seat. “We survive this night, you’ll get your damn autograph — with all my best wishes.”

“Now that’s the spirit,” Emmet laughed, imitating a mock-heroic tone. “You and your ‘I’m not Alex Casey, I am Alex Casey!’ You book guys are all the same.”

Alex couldn’t hold back anymore — he burst out laughing, nearly losing grip on the steering wheel. Even Saga, still talking to her husband on the phone, broke into laughter mid-sentence. Casey smiled too, shaking his head.

Light laughter filled the car, and the tension that had weighed on them all day finally began to lift. For a brief moment, none of them thought about what awaited ahead. They just drove — together, ready to do what had to be done.

To be continued…

(I actually thought this chapter would be the end of it all, with Alex diving to the bottom of the Maelstrom. But I thought about it, and then thought about it again, and wrote down what the voices in my head told me. Basically, the next chapter is a concert, maybe. Then Scratch getting hit in the face with a stick and Alan Wake being saved, maybe too.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep